


4 A.M. Confessions

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Series: #666foryou [160]
Category: Damien (TV)
Genre: Dementia, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7570033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He's gone, I remember now.  I'm sorry, Ann."  She begins to cry, frustration clear.  "Why can't I remember these things?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	4 A.M. Confessions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ctorres](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ctorres/gifts).



> Date Written: 23 July 2016  
> Word Count: 469  
> Written for: ctorres  
> Prompt: 27. things you said on the phone at 4 am  
> Summary: "He's gone, I remember now. I'm sorry, Ann." She begins to cry, frustration clear. "Why can't I remember these things?"  
> Spoilers: Post-series, nebulously set about two weeks after the events of episode 01x10 "Ave Satani." Beyond that, everything we learned in these 10 episodes is up for grabs.  
> Warnings: No standard warnings apply.  
> Series: #666foryou  
> Series: Alliances  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…  
> Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Damien," "The Omen," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Glen Mazarra, David Seltzer, 20th Century Fox Television, Fox 21, and A&E Television Networks. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Damien," "The Omen," A&E, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: I like tying in little bits of my personal headcanon with what I've picked up in the canon source material. This story does that, to an extent. Yes, most of it is my personal headcanon, but I really do believe that John Lyons has a lot of bodies buried out in the woods around the abattoir on his property. And there's only one person who can tell me my headcanon's wrong: Glen Mazzara.
> 
> Dedication: This is part of a series of stories to thank the phenomenal creative team of _Damien_ , both in front of and behind the camera.
> 
> Beta: theonlyspl

"John? John, where are you?"

The sound of her cries wakes me from a light doze. Everything is still too new in this house for me to sleep deeply for very long. None of us feel comfortable with the nurse John had employed for her, and it's difficult to find someone we can trust with the knowledge of Damien's true self, among other things.

Donning robe and slippers, I head down the hall to her room and step inside. Margot is trying to sit up, one arm flailing in front of her. Sitting next to her, I reach for her hands. "Shh, it's okay, Margot. You're safe now."

"Where's John? He promised he'd come sit with me tonight."

"John's not here, Margot, remember?"

She stiffens then for a moment, blinking slowly at me. The intensity of her gaze deepens and she sighs heavily. "He's gone, I remember now. I'm sorry, Ann." She begins to cry, frustration clear. "Why can't I remember these things?"

"The strokes--"

"There were never any strokes!" she growls. "He did that on purpose. I don't know how, but I was rendered dumb intentionally."

The implications of her words are both startling and not exactly a revelation. I've wondered for years about her supposed strokes, given that she was in very good health at the time. "Margot, are you saying that John purposely tried to have you killed?"

"No, he didn't want me dead, just mute and pliable. Everyone who was there that night _did_ die eventually, and so many others, too. You don't want to dig up the grounds of the estate. Trust me."

That verifies a few things I've wondered over the years. Before I can ask her though, her face goes slack, and I know I've lost her again. Who knows how much of her information is actually true? With gentle care, I settle her back on the bed and begin to hum softly to ease her back into sleep again.

"She okay?" Damien asks as I come out of her room, jumping at the sound of his voice. "Sorry. I didn't want to frighten her any further in there."

"She's asleep again. I need to find a way to talk her sons into letting me bring some equipment onto the Lyons estate. Something Margot said has me curious."

"The abattoir?" he asks, eyebrows lifting in curiosity.

"More like what's apparently buried around it."

At that, Damien's lips curl up into a sinister smirk. "You let me take care of John Jr. and Solomon. They owe me for a few favors a while back."

"Thank you, Damien."

"You're welcome. Get some sleep. I'll lay out my plan with you in the morning."

I return to my bedroom, but sleep doesn't come easily. My mind is too busy trying to figure this out.


End file.
